What can you do for three hours with a pumpkin?
by Caipora
Summary: Harry and Ron are stuck in the Grangers' London apartment for three hours on a hot August afternoon. With a pumpkin.


"Try to humor her. She's my mother, after all. Mom thinks asking about school is like reading my diary. She's too polite to ask about wizarding, so she's got strange ideas. So just humor her."

"Hermione, the elevator's here!"

"Coming, Mom! Please, Harry, don't let Ron mess up anything. Be careful, and remember, it's only for three hours!"

"Well, they're gone. What do you want to do?"

"Harry, I'm afraid to move. Every single thing in Hermione's living room costs more than my parents' house, and it's all white. Even that painting over the sofa is just plain white. And I think her Mom lines up the sofa cushions with a ruler."

"Don't exaggerate, Ron. It's not **all** white. Some of it's chrome. Maybe it's the Dental Modern style. And the painting is different shades of white."

"Let's go into the kitchen. It's white, too, but at least it's washable. If we go on tiptoe and we're lucky we can get there without breaking or dirtying anything."

"You can uncross your fingers now. Not only did we make it, we found something that's not white."

"It must have to do with what Hermione meant by humoring her Mom, the way it's sitting in the middle of the kitchen table like that."

"Sure, Ron. But what can you do for three hours with a pumpkin?"

"It's your fault we got here so early. You're the one who grew up Muggle. I counted on you to understand the trains."

"Hermione said better early than late. She must have forgotten her doctor's appointment. So we're stuck here."

"Stuck in a London apartment on the hottest day in August, with a power emergency and so no air conditioning."

"With a pumpkin. Stop changing the subject."

"You know how to act like a Muggle. We could go out ..."

"You don't know how to act like a Muggle. I don't know how much trouble you could get into in London in three hours, and I don't intend to find out. Now, think pumpkin."

"Jack o'Lantern?"

"In August?"

"Maybe her Mom thinks Hogwarts is Halloween all year round. After all, she bought the pumpkin. Anyway there's lots of easy spells."

"No spells, remember? We're not at school. But Mr. Dursley made one once for Dudley, just using a knife. It's really messy, but you just have to put down lots of old newspapers."

"Let's find papers, then. Maybe in here."

"Any luck?"

"Just a broom closet. Gosh, why do Muggles need so many different kinds of soap?"

"This door should be a maid's room."

"All right! Got a bed?"

"No such luck. Turned into a sewing room. It's got another door. Bathroom with shower."

"No newspapers?"

"None. But heck, we've got three hours. With all that soap you found, we'll just wash the floor when we're done."

"Fine for the floor, but these are the only clothes I brought that I can wear around the Grangers without feeling stupid."

"Take 'em off."

"After you, Harry. "

"All right. We can leave them in the sewing room."

"I thought you were kidding."

"Watch me. Ah, I already feel cooler."

"What if Hermione's mom comes back early and finds us pumpkin carving in our skivvies?"

"You really think a woman who lines up her cushions with a ruler is going to get back early?"

"You've got a point, Harry. And it's too damn hot."

"Doesn't that feel better?"

"Sure does. Now, one of these drawers ought to have knives. Here we go. Choose your weapon."

"This thin one looks good. I think I'll start with an ear."

"You call that an ear?"

"What do you think it looks like, Ron?"

"You remember that inflatable doll Neville snuck in last term?"

"You're right. It does look more like her than like an ear. Screw this, I'm no artist."

"Not a bad idea. Move over."

"You're not really going to . . .

"Unhh. Hey, it's soft and warm. Wet. Kind of ... unhmn. Yeah."

"Ron? Ron? Hey Ron, give me a turn."

"Go make your own hole... Jeezus! You could have stabbed me with that knife."

"Cool it, I'm making the other ear, all the way on the other side. Be done in a sec. There. Hey, let's put it somewhere we can both get at it."

"That bar stool looks the right height."

"Great. Let me try. Wow, you're right, it feels neat."

"Isn't it? Let's try something. Push when I push. In, out, in ..."

"What are we trying? Not that I mind."

"I thought I'd be able to feel you."

"Well, I can't get all the way in. I bump into your hands, the way you're holding the pumpkin."

"I'll hold your hips, then. Pull you all the way in. Then out. Then in ..."

"I thought I felt ... Just go in as far as you can for a sec. Now turn a little to the left. Then back. There, did you feel?"

"Yes, that's you all right, Harry. You're hotter that pumpkin seeds."

"You never told me that before."

"Didn't want you to get stuck up. Let's try moving together again."

"That's great. Yeah. Your hands feel good, too. "

"I like it when you squeeze me like that."

"Your ass is more squeezable than the pumpkin. Softer."

"Soft ass? I'll give you soft ass!"

"I'll take you up on that. Later, though. Right now I think I'm in love. "

"Ron, ... faster. Let's go faster."

"Harry, I'm not sure this is good for the pumpkin. It's starting to crack."

"I don't care if its good for her, it's good for me. Really good. God, Ron, I'm going to ... uuunnh!"

"Oops."

"Was is good for you, too?"

"Oh, yeah, it was great. But look at the pumpkin."

"Humpty-dumpty ville. And we were having such a beautiful relationship."

"I was getting fond of her, too. But what do we tell the Grangers?"

"The truth?"

"No, that's out. Might be fun to tell Hermione, though."

"You do that and she'll probably do something to **you** with a carving knife."

"We've still got two and a half hours. Maybe we can cook something?"

"Good idea. That shelf must be cookbooks. You take this one, and I'll this one here. Let's see, index, 'p', 'pumpkin.' Bread. Pickled. Pie. Purée. Seeds. Soup."

"Too hot for soup. Pickled takes too long."

"Puree? Nah. 'Look Hermione, we made pumpkin puree?'"

"Bread or pie, then."

"I vote pie."

"The pies have it. Let's see. First make crust, then filling, Crust. Butter, flour, ice water."

"There's butter in the fridge, and a spout on the door for ice water."

"Here's a mixing bowl, at least. Hold it for me while I try these cabinets. Aha, canisters. 'Flour.' I think this is going to work."

* * *

"'Add ginger, cloves, allspice.' Hermione's mom have them?" 

"Yep, and in alphabetical order, too."

"'Pour condensed milk into cooled puree and beat with wooden spoon for three minutes.' Everything here is stainless steel. Do you think it has to be wood? Is it like a spell or something where iron won't work?"

"I know something we could use instead. Hand me that butter, Ron. Now let me just ..."

"Um. That feels so good. Slippery. That really turns me on. Hey, where are you pulling me to?"

"By the table here. Hold the bowl tilted like this. I'll just pour in the condensed milk, while I stir it with ... See, I knew it would work."

"It's even warmer than Miss Pumpkin. And with your hand. Dammit, Harry, I'm going to ... oops. What do we do now?

"No problem. We've just got a bit more condensed milk. Let me squeeze everything in so we don't lose it. You didn't nearly make three minutes, though."

"Your turn to stir, then. There's a little more condensed milk in the can. Let me wipe in on you."

"When you rub it like that it heats up, gets less sticky."

"There, you're ready. Hold the bowl, and let me hold the stirrer. We still need to beat for another minute."

"Why'd you stop, Ron?"

"Time's up!"

"Keep going, dammit!"

"But it says, "Do not overbeat."

"Just a little bit longer, Ron. I'm almost there, almost there, faster ... uhnnn."

"Well, more cream. Now what?"

"Pour into pie shell. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Let's see, the Dursley's oven lights under the broiler with a match. Let me look down there. Hey, I think I found the spot. Hand me down that box of matches, Ron."

"Here you go."

"Why the butter?"

"With you down on all fours looking for the burner, I remembered what you said earlier about "soft ass". And there's really nothing to do while waiting for the over to heat up. So just light the oven and hold still."

"That butter's cold. Um, **_that's_ not** cold. Slowly, Ron, it's been weeks since the term ended, and I'm out of practice. Slowly, slowly, there, right."

* * *

"What's that bell?" 

"The oven. Must be hot enough."

"Already? You're hot enough too. Let the oven wait a little bit longer, just a little bit. Harry, I'd forgotten how good you are. Just a little longer ... now!"

"Let me put the pie in. It only needs forty-five minutes, and they'll be back in an hour. How and we going to clean this up? What a mess! Shower and clean, or clean and shower?"

"We've got to clean up a bit before we go through the sewing room, or there'll be pumpkin everywhere. But first, let me clean off your stirrer, I'm one ahead of you. Hmsfilggd."

"What? Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron."

"Sorry. I said, 'Hey this filling's good.' Let me get the rest of it now."

"That was great, Ron. But now we've only got fifty minutes left. Tell you what. Shower, clean, take the pie out, shower again, and we'll just have time to get dressed before Hermione and her mother get back."

* * *

"What a surprise, boys. Fresh pumpkin pie! And it's so very good, the filling so nice and airy, and just a little tart. What's your secret?" 

"Well, we don't use machines, Mrs., er, Dr. Granger. Everything's beaten by hand."

"Ron's right. Without a mixing machine, it's more personal. We can feel the mixture, and stop beating at just the right point."

"I do hope you two can teach Hermione how you do it."

"I know we'd both enjoy that very much, Dr. Granger."


End file.
